


i burn, i pine, i perish

by bodhirookes



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Ryan Bergara, Jealousy, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Protective Ryan Bergara, just be aware of that!!, slight dub con aka forced kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:02:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28455786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bodhirookes/pseuds/bodhirookes
Summary: “Ryan’s the best at it, I swear on the Holy Bible.”He looks up to find Shane grinning crookedly across the table. Ryan’s heart stutters at the sight of it, and then twists at the sight of Tyler’s unimpressed sneer, something Shane doesn’t notice at all.“What?” he asks stupidly.“We were talking about editing. Tyler does song covers on YouTube, and I was telling him about the little ghoul adventures we film and how quickly you can edit those videos. Supernaturally fast, if you will.”“It’s ‘cause I gotta catch those ghouls and prove you wrong,” Ryan teases. “My entire purpose behind those videos is to prove you wrong.”“Oh, I am perfectly aware, Mr. Bergara.”Ryan goes to reply, a joke about Shane lacking The Sight ready to go, but Tyler beats him to the punch.“I don’t believe in ghosts whatsoever. They’re total bullshit. I’m sure everything you guys hear on your, uh,ghoul adventuresis nothing but the wind and animal sounds.”Or, some tool from Shane's creative writing class accidentally throws his drink on Shane one day, decides to stick around afterwards, and turns Ryan's life into an episode ofAs The World Turns
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 20
Kudos: 124
Collections: Shyan Shipping Society - NYE Exchange





	i burn, i pine, i perish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [matterbaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/matterbaby/gifts).



> howdy everyone!!!!!! i know what you're thinking: 2 fics in one month from this dumbass???? is it christmas???? and actually—
> 
> but yes, i'm already back w a new fic!!!!!! on ze shyan shipping society discord, the mods decided to do a little smth smth for new years and host a fic exchange and i knew i had to sign up even though i'm a fool and always put exchange fics off to the last ummmm 24 hours lmao. but this time i actually shat out all 12k of this in like 48 hours earlier this month and i think it turned out p well!!! my prompt was fake dating or jealousy and originally i tried to put them together but i found that writing jealous!ryan was the vibe here and i just took it and ran. this fic is a gift for the wonderful soph, the glue who keeps our server together lmao!! soph i hope u enjoy this fic and have the best new years!!! i hope we get to chat more in the server in the future!!!!!!! ♡♡♡♡♡♡
> 
> special thanks to aj and zan for hosting the exchange, and special thanks to pop for giving this a read for me even tho i wasn't sure if we were allowed to have other ppl in the server beta read it fsafjafjdjfa you're all amazing!!!!!! 
> 
> ***slight cw: there is a scene where one character non-consensually kisses another character but it's over p quickly and nothing else happens, there's kind of a build up to it so you'll know what it's coming***
> 
> title comes from the movie 10 things i hate about you and the taming of the shrew by shakespeare because i love cameron A Lot, i promise it'll make sense at the end. also pop is a wonderful beta but while i was shuffling shit around i'm sure i misspelled something or left a word out, my bad yall

It all starts in the Panda Express on campus, which is not that great as far as starts go. 

As usual, they’re incredibly fucking busy, but Ryan doesn’t mind waiting in line for his food because he has the rest of the afternoon off. And he’s standing in line with Shane, who could make watching paint dry seem like the newest and extremest Olympic sport with the minimal effort. 

“You’re full of shit,” Shane replies, after Ryan says this very truth out loud. “About most things, actually, but this in particular.” 

“What do you mean? You don’t even have to talk to be funny. All you have to do is fuckin’ stand there or move your body like so.” 

Ryan strikes some ridiculous pose that is supposed to be one of Shane’s go-tos, that weird, slouchy, hands straight at his side thing he does sometimes when he’s listening to someone speak. A loud, surprised laugh sputters out of Shane, one that he tries to muffle with a hand over his mouth. So Ryan does another one, this time that weird akimbo thing Shane defaults to when he’s being dramatic, the one where he puts his balled-up fists on his hips and looks at the other person with big googly eyes. 

“You look like the Mocking Spongebob meme. Please stop immediately.” 

“Sure, since you just proved my point.” 

“I don’t move like that. I move more like this—” and then Shane is striking his own pose, the one where he sticks his thumbs into his pants pockets and sticks his feet out like a penguin. “Get your facts straight, buddy.” 

“Like this?” Ryan asks, moving his body in another weird way. 

Shane tells him: “No, like this,” and then contorts himself into such a wild shape that Ryan fears for the state of his well being. 

After they’ve struck a handful of poses, each one more ridiculous than the last, Daysha finally sticks her head around Shane’s back and asks: 

“What in the actual hell are you two doing?” 

“Proving a point,” Ryan announces, just as Shane replies, “Showing off.” 

“Well, you look like you’re interpretive dancing to slam poetry.” 

Ryan looks up at Shane. “Oooh, is that what you’re always doing? Like, as a constant state of existing?” 

“Yeah, you finally figured out. Congratulations.” 

“I hope they kick you two out forever,” Daysha sighs, and goes back to her conversation with Curly and Jen. 

They take that as a sign to cut the posing out, and instead move onto discussing slam poetry and all of the times they’ve gone to coffee shops to study and taken off their headphones hours later to discover they’re in the middle of poetry night. 

“One time I went to Chemical Xpresso to study with Steven, and when I got up to go to the bathroom, there was someone on stage wailing about how raking leaves out of your yard is a metaphor for letting the zombies of global warming crawl out of the earth to destroy our planet.”

“Ryan, what the fuck.” 

“Yeah. It was horrible.” 

It continues until they’ve gone through the line and acquired their lunches, and all the way over to the drink station. One second, Shane is enthusiastically proclaiming that he’d rather fail out of school than ever take another math class, and the next he’s turning to get a lid and Ryan hears someone yell: 

“Holy shit, I’m  _ so _ sorry!” 

When Ryan jerks his head up, startled, he sees that a) there is some dude holding an empty, dripping cup, his mouth in the perfect shape of an O, and b) the left sleeve of Shane’s sweatshirt is now completely soaked. Ryan guesses that the guy managed to swerve at the last moment possible, but Shane still got caught in the crossfire. 

Shane, for his part, looks just as unflappable as always. He merely says, “Oh, it’s cool,” and finishes putting a lid on his drink before grabbing a handful of napkins. 

Conversely, the guy who threw his drink all over Shane looks like he might faint from embarrassment. “I’m really, really, really sorry, oh my God. I didn’t see you there, and I just—went for it—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shane reassures, but when he looks up to flash the person a nonchalant smile, he does a double take. “Hey, don’t we have Professor Joyner’s creative writing class together? It’s Tyler, right?” 

“Yeah!” Tyler seems to look relieved by Shane’s lack of anger and a little surprised that he remembers who he is. But there’s something about the sparkle in his eyes when he looks up at Shane that makes Ryan’s skin prickle. “I love _The_ _Hot Daga_ , by the way. I get excited to hear the next installment every Thursday during show and tell time.” 

When Shane thanks him, a pleased grin stretching across his face, Ryan realizes what the twinkle in Tyler’s beautiful fucking blue eyes is: infatuation. He’s got a big ol’ crush on Shane; it makes Ryan want to scowl, or go mega caveman and stake his claim. 

“Thanks! Ryan here absolutely abhors it, so it’s nice to talk to someone who has a more refined palate.” 

Ryan smooths his face out as much as he can, but since it was  _ not _ made for subtlety, he knows it’s a lost cause. Shane doesn’t notice, but Tyler’s sunny expression goes a little sour when it falls on Ryan, so it was definitely the lostest of causes. 

“Yeah, well, if I wanted to spend three hours listening to someone assign voices to various produce items, I could just watch  _ VeggieTales.”  _

Shane nudges him with his dry elbow. “You wound me and my hotdogs.” 

“I think it’s great,” Tyler affirms, and flashes Ryan a decidedly dirty look. “I guess you just have to be an artiste to understand the true beauty that is _The_ _Hot Daga_.” 

Ryan raises both eyebrows, unwilling to believe that this is a real conversation he’s been sucked into. “Oh, is that right?” 

“Of course!” Shane says. “It’s a masterpiece. Right up there with  _ Dante’s Inferno  _ and  _ The Odyssey! _ ” 

“I think that’s pushing it, big guy.” 

“It is similarly iconic to  _ Pulp Fiction—”  _

“Shane, why are you wet?” 

The three of them turn to find Jen standing next to the other drink machine, her eyes locked onto Shane’s vividly wet sleeve. 

“Now  _ that’s _ a loaded question.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Shane tells Ryan fondly, and then gestures at Tyler. “A little mishap. But he’s a  _ Hot Daga  _ fan, so it’s okay.” 

“I don’t know what that means,” Jen says, in a way that means  _ And I do not want to know.  _ “How about we go sit down and get you out of that, huh?” 

Shane clasps his free hand to his chest. “A woman after my virtue! Scandalous!” 

Jen says, “Yeah, I’m always on the hunt for a man’s virtue,” and then does an about-face to go and find a booth for them to squeeze into. 

Ryan could kiss Jen on the mouth for this perfect opportunity to get Tyler to fuck off. “She’s right, dude. You’re gonna start chafing soon.” 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s follow her then.” He turns to Tyler and waves goodbye, something that makes Tyler wilt. Ryan tries to hide his smug grin. “See you in creative writing tomorrow! For more  _ Hot Daga!”  _

“See you,” Tyler replies, but Ryan is already hauling Shane away by his arm, eager to put some distance between them. 

They find Jen and Daysha at one of the huge circular booths Panda Express has in each corner of the room. They’re sitting towards the center, already tearing into their food, and Ryan climbs in next to Daysha, Shane following after. 

“What happened?” Daysha asks when she catches sight of Shane’s clothes. “Did Bergara start talking about his love for crab rangoons again and cry in your arms?” 

Ryan flicks her cup. “Fuck off. Some dude from his creative writing class decided to audition for  _ Glee  _ and Shane was his chosen participant.” 

“It was an accident,” Shane explains. He finally gets his backpack off and then works the sweatshirt over his head, careful not to whack Ryan with the wet sleeve. “No biggie. Tyler’s cool.” 

“Tyler’s in love with you,” Jen tells him, snorting. “I swear he had fucking stars in his eyes when he was apologizing or whatever you were talking about. He looked just like—” 

She stops abruptly, and makes very obvious eye contact with Ryan. He gives her a look of such horror and betrayal in return that she jerks her head towards Shane, stumbling for an explanation. 

“—a fifth grader,” she finishes lamely, but Shane is too busy folding his sweatshirt up to really notice. “It was kind of cute.” 

Shane, once situated, looks at her across the table. “He’s definitely not in love with me. You’re high.” 

“Who’s not in love with you?” Curly appears suddenly, lunch in hand and Sara at his side. He makes eye contact with Ryan, who gives him the same look of horror he gave Jen, and Curly’s save is much smoother than hers. “Everyone I’ve ever met is in love with you, cutie.” 

“Thanks, man. You too.” Shane scoots closer to Ryan to let Sara sit down, and Curly slides in next to Jen, completing their Wednesday lunch group. “Just this guy from my creative writing class. We had a mishap at the drink station. And by mishap, I mean that he had a cup full of lemonade and then we both went to get a lid and then he did not have a cup full of lemonade. But now my sweatshirt does!” 

“He’s in loooooove with Shane,” Jen says to the newest members. “You should’ve seen how big his heart eyes were. It was ridiculous.” 

Ryan wishes she would stop saying it, can feel a hot and ugly surge of jealousy twisting in his gut knowing that Jen is absolutely right. Shane doesn’t seem to return Tyler’s feelings, and yet Ryan can’t help but wonder if he does, somewhere underneath that calm mask and Shane’s general sweetness. Tyler is cute. Tyler makes Shane smile. Tyler likes  _ The Hot Daga.  _

Tyler does not like Ryan. Tyler has become Ryan’s new archnemesis. 

“He’s really not. ‘Sides,” Shane insists, slinging his arm around Ryan’s shoulders, “I’m not looking to romance anyone right now. I’ve got  _ The Hot Daga  _ and fighting with Ryan about ghosties to occupy my time.” 

“Terrible and real as fuck, respectively,” Ryan throws back on reflex, the jealousy briefly overrun by butterflies. And if he leans into Shane’s side, that’s no one’s business but his own. “And very time-consuming projects. Good choice.” 

“Whatever, go ahead and brush it off.” Jen points her fork at Shane, and then pushes her foot meaningfully into Ryan’s shin when she finishes with: “But when that kid sidles up to you at the end of creative writing one day and asks for your hand in marriage, you owe me breakfast.” 

Shane hums, unconvinced but amused all the same. “We’ll see about that.” 

The rock reappears in Ryan’s stomach and he ends up pushing his food around as the conversation continues from there. Jen takes her foot off of his shin after they move onto whining about Ned’s dogged determination to get them to buy and play  _ Mouse Trap  _ for game night, but the promise behind it lingers: ask Shane out before someone else does, someone who might be able to hold his attention the way Ryan can. 

He carefully tips his head back against Shane’s shoulder, feeling sad and sorry for himself, and Shane squeezing his arm does little to help, even though it does put a small smile on Ryan’s face.

**_~.~.~_ **

Ryan hopes, briefly and brightly, that this thing with Tyler was just a fluke and their paths will never cross again. He hopes and hopes and hopes, and all seems well for about a week—until the Wednesday lunch group decides to gather in the library to study one night. 

They’re doing more chatting than serious studying, which is to be expected, but no one is super concerned. There are more pressing matters at hand than calculus and Daysha’s hellish Shakespeare class. 

“All I’m saying is that the Mandela Effect is very real and time travel has irrevocably altered our reality,” Ryan says, in what he would consider to be a very calm and reasonable voice. 

Sara, across from him, puts her head in her hands. “Please. Not another word about those fucking bears and their last name.  _ Please.” _

Next to her, Shane protectively covers her ears with both of his hands. “Ryan, shame on you for trying to hurt Sara’s scientific mind with your hogwash conspiracy theories.” 

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Wow, I’m very sorry, Square-a. I hope you can forgive me.” 

Curly, who is sitting to Ryan’s left, suddenly grabs his hand and exclaims: “Oh my goodness, can we please talk about  _ Curious George _ not having a tail? Who did that?” 

Ryan finds that he is really, genuinely having the time of his goddamn life when this gets the table going again. Then a boy with golden curls and pretty blue eyes steps up behind Shane, and all of Ryan’s hackles rise at once. He’s still holding onto Curly’s hand like it’s an anchor and only realizes that he’s crushing it when Curly whines, hissing a quiet:  _ “Ryan!”  _ under his breath. 

“Hey, Shane!” Tyler greets, very much not reading the room. Ryan is probably the only one of them who minds being interrupted, but still. Principles. “I thought I saw you over here.” 

Shane turns to Tyler, a smile already lighting up his face. The sight of Shane looking  _ up _ at someone, someone who is not Ryan or someone Ryan trusts, while he is shorter and softer and vulnerable makes him feel vaguely seasick. And like a fucking jackass. 

“Hey, man! How’s it going?” 

Tyler slides his gaze over the table, just a cursory glance, but his mouth tightens when he pauses on Ryan. Ryan suddenly feels a lot less like a jackass. 

“Nothing much. Just trying to come up with something decent for the weekly prompt in creative writing.” 

“Same. What the fuck are we supposed to do with ‘write about your least favorite color’ in a way that doesn’t sound emo and monologue-y?” 

“Not a clue.” Tyler points at the empty chair to Shane’s left, the one with his and Sara’s backpacks in it. “Would it be cool if I sat down? We could bounce ideas off of each other?” 

_ The man’s got nads,  _ Ryan thinks to himself, kind of impressed by Tyler’s lack of anxiety at joining a table full of strangers.

“Yeah, sure,” Shane agrees, pulling their bags off the chair. He looks around the table, and asks: “Andrew and Steven aren’t coming, are they?” 

“Nah, Steven’s working a double and Andrew has a group project meeting on the fourth floor.” Jen looks at Ryan, takes in what is probably a major scowl on his face, and looks back at Tyler, clearly trying not to laugh. “Feel free, dude.” 

And feel free he does. Tyler settles in like he’s been there the whole time and immediately steals all of Shane’s attention. From what Ryan can gather, they’re animatedly discussing their horrible weekly prompt, and then Tyler brings up  _ The Hot Daga  _ again and it’s a mess of character names and jokes from there. 

Normally, Ryan is not the jealous type; they have a million friends between them who all love to spend time with Shane, and he’s witnessed more than one person try to chat him up and get his number. Maybe it was different with those people, who always randomly approached him at parties or coffee shops, never anyone Shane was actually friends with. But this Tyler guy is definitely friends with Shane, which makes it easier for him to keep his attention and warm him up to the idea of extending this conversation to one over coffee, and then one at dinner, and then one at his place—

Ryan is not the jealous type, but Tyler has a real chance at scoring a date with Shane and is obviously trying to fast track to that opportunity. Ryan is not the jealous type, but he is incredibly jealous of Tyler, not because he has Shane’s attention but because he has the courage to actually do something about the crush he has on him. Because Tyler doesn’t have to agonize over the fear of losing the best thing that has ever happened to him with one small, enormous question.  _ Want to go on a date with me?  _ One small, enormous statement.  _ I’m in love with you. _

He seethes in silence and tries to get some homework completed in the meantime. No one seems to notice, no one except Curly, who takes Ryan’s hand again and squeezes gently to ask if he’s okay. Ryan squeezes back to say that he’s fine, and then lets go, lets Curly focus his attention fully on his conversation with Daysha, Jen, and Sara. 

Ryan works on his mind-numbingly boring biology homework while everyone else at the table chatters away, and gets away with it all up until he hears: 

“Ryan’s the best at it, I swear on the Holy Bible.” 

The sound of his name wrenches him out of the homework trance, and he looks up to find Shane grinning crookedly across the table. Ryan’s heart stutters at the sight of it, and then twists at the sight of Tyler’s unimpressed sneer, something Shane doesn’t notice at all. 

“What?” he asks stupidly, dragging his eyes from Tyler’s frown. 

“We were talking about editing,” Shane explains. “Tyler does song covers on YouTube, and I was telling him about the little ghoul adventures we film and how quickly you can edit those videos. Supernaturally fast, if you will.” 

“It’s ‘cause I gotta catch those ghouls and prove you wrong,” Ryan teases, and smiles for the first time in a half an hour. “My entire purpose behind those videos is to prove you wrong.” 

“Oh, I am perfectly aware, Mr. Bergara.” 

Ryan goes to reply, a joke about Shane lacking The Sight ready to go, but Tyler beats him to the punch. 

“I don’t believe in ghosts whatsoever. They’re total bullshit.” A flush blooms across Ryan’s cheeks and down his neck, one that is born from a combination of humiliation and anger, and it makes him feel queasy. “I’m sure everything you guys hear on your, uh,  _ ghoul adventures _ is nothing but the wind and animal sounds.” 

And then he puts his hand on Shane’s arm, a gesture that might be mistaken as completely platonic but is 100% Tyler flirting with him. Ryan’s breath catches as he watches all five of Tyler’s fingers rest and curl around Shane’s bicep like they fucking belong there. Shane’s sleepy eyes widen, and his shoulders tense up towards his ears, both actions almost imperceptible to anyone but Ryan. He sees them like two trains speeding towards each other, the crash inevitable and excruciating to watch. The humiliation and anger rise within him like a wall of white-hot fire, and Ryan knows that he needs to get the fuck out of there before he breaks all five of Tyler’s thin, guitar-perfect fingers and oversteps Shane’s personal boundaries. Before he does something cruel and gross and invasive, just like this Tyler punk. 

Ryan abruptly gets up from the table without meeting anyone’s eyes. He hauls his backpack onto it and paws through all the notebooks and folders and miscellaneous pens until his wallet comes into view. He plucks it out, shoves it and his balled-up fists into his hoodie pouch, and announces: “I’m going to get a coffee!” before sprinting away. 

He thinks he hears someone call after him, maybe Curly, maybe Jen, but pretends like his only concern right now is getting some goddamn coffee. It must look like it when he nearly runs over a trio of girls coming down the stairs, but he doesn’t let up his speed until he’s on the second floor and in front of the cafe area. 

Coffee is probably not in Ryan’s best interest, with the jagged, wild fury he’s currently experiencing. So when he gets to the order counter, he asks for a pink lemonade instead, and then goes over to the pick-up counter feeling like a total idiot. 

He’s still waiting when someone steps up next to him and asks, “Hey, are you okay?” 

Ryan is both grateful and dismayed to find that it’s Shane. “Yeah, why?” 

“You’re looking a little scowly, pal.” 

“No I’m not.” 

Shane, in lieu of responding, gives Ryan a cartoonish scowl, one that makes him look like a goblin. Despite the fury, and the humiliation, and being jealous, jealous, jealous beyond belief, Ryan finds himself laughing. He reaches up and tries to force Shane’s mouth back up into its natural position. 

“Stop! That’s not what I look like.” 

Shane gives in and goes back to smiling, but it’s soft, a little concerned, and Ryan aches being on the other end of it. 

“But seriously—you ran out of there like your ass was on fire. Are you okay?” 

_ Good going, asshole, _ Ryan shouts at himself. _ You pulled him away from his friendly chat with Tyler, and for what, to audition as the lead in a soap opera? Get over yourself. _

“I’m good,” Ryan lies, as sincerely as he knows how to when it comes to Shane. “I’m just tired of reading about natural selection. As you know, science is not my area of expertise.” 

“I know,” Shane laughs. He winds an arm around Ryan’s shoulders, and Ryan doesn’t realize how rigid they are until he relaxes into Shane’s hold. “Here’s a crash course to help you out: natural selection has led to many successful evolutions of different species. Take humans, for example—people with common sense do not believe in ghosts, and people who lack it spend a lot of their time talking to dust and shitting their pants over house creaks.” 

“Fuck you very much.” Ryan thinks about play-struggling out from under Shane’s arm, but ends up wrapping an arm around Shane’s hips instead and pushing his face into Shane’s sternum. “I hate school. Let’s drop out and make a ghost hunting show on TV instead.” 

“I would rather pass away.” 

“You can be the Aaron Goodwin to my Zak Bagans,” Ryan reiterates, leaning back to grin up at Shane. “We’ll make millions.” 

Shane still doesn’t look convinced, but he’s lost the concerned edge to his smile, so Ryan counts it as a success. “I don’t think so, Ry. But it was a nice thought.” 

His words sound so fond and sweet that Ryan nearly blurts it out, nearly opens his mouth and lets all of his feelings for Shane Madej come pouring right out. He can still perfectly picture the sight of Tyler touching his arm and leaning into him, the sight of his eyes locked on Shane’s like he was staring up into the endless stretch of the galaxy. Ryan wants to say whatever words will purge the memory from his mind forever, and whatever words it will take to purge it from Shane’s. 

He almost says it, almost says: _ I’m so in love with you that it drives me crazy, _ but instead he says: “Oh, well. Guess I won’t drop out if you won’t, too.” 

“Better idea.” Shane plucks one of the strings on Ryan’s hoodie and tells him, quieter than before, not looking right at him: “Wouldn’t want you to go where I can’t follow.” 

It wells up once more, the visceral need to unravel all of their threads and hope they can be wound together again after Ryan has confessed everything. He clenches his hand in the material of Shane’s flannel and manages to get out: “Shane, I—” before he’s interrupted by the barista.

“Pink lemonade for Ryan!” 

Shane throws his head back and fucking  _ guffaws, _ effectively ruining the mood but also lifting Ryan’s considerably. “You said you came up here for coffee.” 

“Well,” he starts, and then steps away so that he can collect his drink. When he comes back to Shane’s side, Shane puts an arm around him again and waits patiently for the rest of his sentence. Ryan tries to preen as casually as possible. “Well, I changed my mind. I don’t think coffee is really the best option for me right now.” 

Shane puts his pointer finger to Ryan’s temple. “Ah, I see. You’ve got ghoul brain going right now, don’tcha?” 

“Your mom’s got ghoul brain going right now,” he sasses, taking a pointed drink of his delicious, correctly chosen lemonade. “And I’ve got this fabulous beverage of the pink variety now, so it looks like the Madejs lose again. Sucks to suck.” 

“Jesus Christ.” Shane pulls him over to the staircase that will take them back down to the basement. “Let’s get you back to the world of facts and logic, huh?” 

“I would rather pass away,” Ryan replies, stealing Shane’s earlier phrase, but goes without further protest. He still feels a little humiliated and raw inside from Tyler’s fuckery, but his pink lemonade and the knowledge that Shane basically ditched him to come find Ryan helps to lessen the hurt. 

Shane ducks down until he’s speaking right into Ryan’s ear, low enough that no one else could possibly hear what’s being said. “I already told you, buddy: no going where I can’t follow. Ghosts aren’t real and God is dead, so I wouldn’t be able to find you in the afterlife at all.” 

“Wow, great motivation.” It’s supposed to come out full of sarcasm, but instead it comes out full of fondness, which is pretty much the same thing to them anyways. “I’m glad I have you to encourage my livelihood.” 

“I was put on this earth solely to keep you afloat,” Shane replies, and Ryan doesn’t think that Shane will ever know just how much these words strike true. Doesn’t think that Shane will ever understand just how much he means to Ryan and what utter fulfillment he’s brought into his life. That he is the wind in Ryan’s sails and also the rope that ties him to the mast of the boat and no one, not even douchebag Tyler from creative writing, will ever change this. 

He voices all and none of this when he tells Shane: “I know you were.”

**_~.~.~_ **

He’s half-convinced that he’s been imagining Tyler’s hostility towards him. The guy has shown up at the library a handful of times since the first, and occasionally runs into Shane at the dining halls or around actual campus. And each time they cross each other’s paths, Ryan isn’t sure if Tyler actually hates him or if Ryan’s epic jealousy of Tyler’s bravery has been clouding his judgement. 

Ryan gets his answer when he picks Shane up from creative writing one Thursday afternoon. They have plans to spend the rest of the day together, starting with visiting their favorite bookstore downtown and ending with dinner and a movie. He only has to wait about five minutes for class to be wrapped up, and then the students come spilling out and head off to their next place. Shane exits after almost everyone else, and Ryan smiles helplessly at the sight of him, at his soft eyes, his wild, it’s-been-a-long-day hair, and his black jacket and  _ Weird Science  _ t-shirt combo.

“Ry, you are a sight for sore eyes.” 

“Aw, shucks—you too, big guy.” 

Shane makes a big show of checking behind him, where his professor is still in the classroom, and then leaning down to loudly whisper: “If I ever have to read another poem by Walt Whitman again I will lose my effing mind.” 

“I am literally so sorry, dude. But hey, at least today you got to rock the room with another installment of  _ The Hot Daga,  _ right? How did it go?” 

“Excellently! You would have hated every second of it!” 

“Excellently indeed, then.” 

There’s a flash of gold and purple, and then Tyler is standing at Shane’s side, wearing the most violently lilac sweater than Ryan has ever laid eyes on. He’s giving Shane an extremely besotten smile, complete with fluttering eyelashes and a breathy, starstruck tone to his voice. Disgust tears through Ryan like a brutal, churning whirlpool. 

“I thought it was brilliant as always.” 

Shane brightens even more, something that should be impossible, and yet—

“Thanks! I had a lot of fun with it.” 

Ryan listens to them go back and forth about Shane’s story for a few moments, caught between staring at his beautiful smile and wanting to punch Tyler in the stomach. Just as they really start to get into it, their professor calls out through the open doorway. 

“Hey, Shane, can I talk to you for just a second? Nothing bad, just want to follow up.” 

“Yeah, of course!” He turns to Ryan, who feels a little triumphant at Shane pretty much ignoring the rest of Tyler’s sentence. “Don’t go away. We’ve got some Mackelmore and Ryan Lewis to imitate.” 

“What?” Tyler asks, even though he’s not part of the plans, and Shane badly sings: “Downtown!” before heading back into his classroom. 

Ryan doesn’t attempt to start a conversation with Tyler, is planning on just scrolling through his phone until Shane comes back, but Tyler eventually makes an annoyed sound and says: 

“I just don’t understand why you take him for granted.” 

Ryan freezes mid-scroll. “Excuse me?” 

“Shane. Is there a reason why you take him for granted, or?” 

He internally counts to five, unsure whether to get mad or confused first; he settles on a bit of both and looks up like he’s pulling his head through molasses. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

Without Shane or any of their other friends around him, Tyler doesn’t try to hide or dilute his disdain for Ryan. It’s clear as fucking day, and proves that Ryan has never imagined its existence prior to now. He lets his own loathing of Tyler spread across his face with reckless abandon. 

Tyler makes the sound again and pairs it with a judgemental once-over. “Shane works really hard on  _ The Hot Daga,  _ and you could give less of a shit about it. You tell him to his face that you don’t give a shit about it. And I bet you’re like that about a lot of his other projects as well. Why would you take that for granted? Why would you take his creativity and passion for granted when he gives it so easily to you?” 

“You think I take Shane for granted,” Ryan slowly repeats, “because I don’t care for  _ The Hot Daga?”  _

“Yeah. He puts a lot of work into it and you basically tell him to go fuck himself whenever he brings it up.” 

It suddenly occurs to Ryan, in the midst of this wild accusation and Tyler’s contemptuous glare, that he is just as viciously jealous of Ryan as Ryan is of him. That, in the same way that Ryan hates whenever Tyler touches Shane and steals his attention, Tyler hates that Ryan gets so much of Shane’s time and energy and  _ apparently _ takes it for granted. As if Ryan could ever take Shane for granted. As if he doesn’t spend every minute with Shane desperate for another, and then another, and then another after that. 

As if Ryan doesn’t think he could ever love another human being as much as he loves Shane, and then finds out every day that he loves him more and more. 

Ryan fixes Tyler with a cool stare. “You know he started writing that to fuck with me, right?” 

This catches Tyler off-guard. “Huh?” 

“Shane started writing  _ The Hot Daga  _ to fuck with me. I told him that when I was a kid, I hated the episodes of  _ Sesame Street  _ where they had talking food because it creeped me out and he started writing  _ The Hot Daga  _ after that to torment me. I’m supposed to hate it because  _ he wrote it like that on purpose.” _

Tyler goes a little red and stammers, “H-he never mentioned that.”

“Oh?” Ryan gives him his own once-over and puts as much disgust into the gesture as he can. “Well, that probably means you have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about then, huh?” 

“I still think you don’t appreciate him the way that he deserves. You still brush off the hard work he puts into the story. You always shit on him for bringing up scientific evidence when you two are talking about ghosts. Everything he says you’ve got a contradiction for it. It’s exhausting for me to listen to, so I can’t imagine what it’s like for him to listen to it all the time.” 

Ryan can handle some asshole talking on his behalf and pretending he knows what Ryan feels and thinks, but when it comes to Shane, everything is off-limits. He doesn’t stand for anyone talking shit about Shane in front of him, and he definitely is not going to stand for this random guy from Shane’s creative writing class pretending he knows a single thing about Ryan’s best friend. 

“I’m not continuing this conversation with you,” Ryan tells him, in the meanest tone he’s ever heard himself use. “You might be friends with Shane, and you might even have a crush on him, but you don’t know him. I’ve been best friends with him since middle school and I know  _ everything _ about him, from the trivial, random bullshit to what his biggest fears and biggest dreams and biggest regrets are. I’m his best friend, and he’s mine, and I don’t owe you a fucking explanation for why that is. And even though I know him, I don’t feel the need to speak on his behalf like you’ve decided to do. Shane is his own fucking person and I’m not going to play tug-of-war with you over him because that’s gross and disrespectful. How about you take a time-out from fawning over Shane like he’s your Prince Charming and ask him about why he started writing  _ The Hot Daga, _ or why he likes writing in general, or what he wants to accomplish with his writing in the future.” 

Tyler’s mouth works around what Ryan can only assume is a lot of swear words and headassery. 

“I’ve asked him.” 

“Cool. What’s one of his biggest writing dreams?” Ryan waits as patiently as he can for Tyler to shit out his answer, but gets nothing but a pissed silence. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought. Feel free to go fuck yourself. And if you ever try to tell me what my relationship with Shane is like again, I’m not even going to respond because you are not worth my time, and you just proved that perfectly.” 

“I support him,” Tyler tries, but he’s too embarrassed and snarly for it to stick the landing. “I would treat him so much better than you do. He deserves to be with someone who uplifts him and his passions.” 

Ryan’s level stare doesn’t change. “You know what? Maybe you would treat him well if you two ever dated. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that the beginning to a successful and healthy relationship is not you talking down to his best friend the second his back is turned. Regardless of what I feel for Shane and what he may or may not feel for me, at least I care for him enough not to try and rip his existing relationships apart to develop my own. I love him without expecting his entire existence in return, and as long as I get to be in his life, it will be enough. Can you say the same? Because your actions speak louder than your words, dude.” 

“Whatever,” Tyler scoffs, and even though Ryan feels like a livewire, he takes it as a victory. “I don’t have to explain myself to you either. When he finally decides that hanging out with you isn’t worth it because all you do is put him down, just remember me saying ‘I told you so.’” 

“I highly doubt you’ll be around that long, but that’s a nice sentiment.” 

Tyler takes a step towards Ryan, until they’re literally going toe-to-toe, and spits in a low, cruel voice: 

“He’s never going to love you back.” 

Ryan  _ just barely _ manages to keep from flinching at the words, at the way they spear into him and spread like a poison. Tyler must be able to see it though, see the way it nearly brings him to his knees, and grins nastily. Ryan just looks into his pretty, gemstone eyes and uses the truth to keep himself from being bested by this piece of shit. 

“Probably not. But Shane is good at reading people. He’ll figure out that you’re rotten to the core in no time at all and then he’ll send you on your way. Because he is his own motherfucking person and he knows how to take care of himself.” 

“I don’t think—” 

“He will,” Ryan says, almost a whisper. “And when it happens, I hope you remember me saying ‘ _ I told you so.’” _

Tyler’s entire body locks up, and for a split second, Ryan thinks that he’s actually going to start a fight. And then Tyler grits out a: “Fuck you, man.” and flees down the hall. Ryan watches him go, feeling both victorious and like he’s at the bottom of a lake, and watches Tyler bang out of the front doors and down the sidewalk like Hell is on his heels. 

The words play over and over again in his head:  _ He’s never going to love you back.  _ Ryan already knew this prior to his stand-off with Tyler, but hearing it from some schmoozy asshole who thinks he’s in love with Shane, from a complete fucking stranger, opens his eyes to just how true they must be. If Tyler can tell how in love with Shane Ryan is, and how un-in love Shane seemingly is with Ryan, then it must be crystal clear to everyone else around them, too. A lump forms in his throat, and Ryan contemplates making a beeline for the bathroom to cry in peace, but knows that Shane will just come find him and demand to know what’s wrong. 

Ryan jumps when he feels someone’s hand come down on his shoulder, jumps bad enough that it nearly gets dislodged. It’s just Shane, looking curious and content and beautiful as always. The sight of him usually fills Ryan with serenity, but now it fills him with a raw, ferocious longing, with a helplessness that Ryan thought he finally laid to rest. He wishes he could run after Tyler and fistfight him right in the middle of campus. 

“Woah, little guy, it’s just me. Are you okay?” 

Ryan starts to say, “Tyler, he—” before he stops, knowing that he can never tell Shane about this conversation. For too many and not enough reasons. So he starts again, repeats: “Tyler, he was telling me about your newest chapter for  _ The Hot Daga.  _ Very abysmal, lots of nightmare fuel out of ten would not recommend.” 

“My prof liked it!” 

“Your prof also likes Walt Whitman.” 

“Harsh,” Shane replies, but he’s laughing. “I can tell you all about it on the ride downtown.” 

“I’d rather listen to Celtic metal music.” Against his will, Ryan hears Tyler’s voice in his head again, this time saying:  _ All you do is put him down.  _ He does an abrupt 180 and says, “But I guess you can fill me in.” 

Shane’s eyes widen comically, and he presses the back of his other hand to Ryan’s forehead. “Ryan, are you sure you’re feeling all right? Are you blacking out right now? Are you  _ possessed?”  _

“Dude, are you? What’s so wild about me wanting to hear about your work?” 

“It’s not my work, it’s  _ The Hot Daga. _ You know, your least favorite piece of literature on the planet? Would light it on fire to keep yourself warm?” 

“Maybe I should listen to you talk about it more. It’s something you enjoy doing.” 

Shane squints at him suspiciously. “I think you’re possessed. To prove that you’re my Ryan Bergara, tell me right this instant something that only you would know.” 

“There are literally so many options to choose from,” Ryan professes, smiling, unable to help himself when it comes to Shane Madej. “When you were in fourth grade, you decided to audition for the school talent show with your ventriloquist dummy and got written up for reciting the dialogue between Mr. Rooney and Cameron in  _ Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” _

“Some of my best work,” Shane sniffs. “Okay, I guess you’re my Ryan Bergara. But, even though you asked for it, I won’t torture you by reading back my new  _ Hot Daga  _ stuff.” 

“Oh, thank fuck—”

“Instead, I can sing it to you!” 

Ryan drops his head back to look at the ceiling. “Every day we stray further from God.”

Shane laughs one of his unabashed belly laughs, one that echoes down the empty hallway and wrings out some of the ache in Ryan’s chest. He knows that he’s going to be replaying Tyler’s words for weeks and agonizing over just how true they are, but Ryan meant it when he told Tyler that he doesn’t know a thing about him and Shane, and that Ryan wasn’t going to play games with him. No matter the capacity, Shane is his and Shane loves him and Ryan is not going to waste another second of their afternoon together wallowing in self pity. So he braces himself, locks down the nonsense, and takes hold of Shane's wrists. 

“Fine. You get until the bus stop to catch me up, and then we’re blacklisting it again.” He guides Shane towards the door, wishing more than anything he could just lace their fingers together and sink into him. “Deal?” 

“Hell yeah, just let me warm up,” Shane agrees, and sings a note that is so off-key and hideous that Ryan lets out one of his own belly laughs. 

“Jesus Christ, you are heading  _ right _ for the Grammys.” 

Shane grins, tells him: “I’ll be sure to thank you in my speech,” and then proceeds to sing a song about all his fucking french fries and plupples and Ryan lets him, trying to remind himself that he’s a good friend with or without Tyler’s misinformed comments. That Shane wouldn’t be best friends with him if Ryan was also rotten to the core. 

**_~.~.~_ **

“This is why we can’t take you two anywhere.” 

“What do you mean?” Shane asks, the picture of innocence. 

Daysha gives him an exasperated look. “You know exactly that I’m talking about.” 

Ryan also tries to appear void of any crimes. “Golly, I really don’t know what you mean, Daysha. We were just trying to come up with ways to take this night from great to immaculate.” 

“You wanted to haul your popcorn maker all the way down to Perron Hall,” Jen says flatly, referring to the film building on campus. “And a hundred foot extension cord. To make your own fucking popcorn.” 

“It’s movie night!” Ryan insists, like that explains everything (which it definitely does, but Shane is the only one who seems to agree). “Who goes to movie night without popcorn!”

“Oh my Christ,” Sara yells, but sounds like she might be laughing, too. “They’re making popcorn there, you fools. It’ll be just like the stuff you make at home.” 

“Doubtful,” Ryan tsks, and Shane sighs, telling her: “No one has a popcorn maker that’s anywhere near as god tier as Ryan’s. And we can’t watch a movie without some god tier corn. That’s blaspheme.”

“Not quite,” Steven interjects, but then says nothing else, so Ryan counts it as the win it absolutely is not. 

Sara links her arm through Shane’s and pats his hand, but the action is meant to be more patronizing than comforting. “Well, I guess you’ll have to put your big boy slacks on and sin for one night then.” 

Andrew shoots Ryan and Shane a stink eye. “If you two interrupt  _ 10 Things I Hate About You  _ with your popcorn nonsense, I will annihilate you.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Shane assures, flapping a hand at him. “We’re going to cross into the afterlife as soon as we try their rank popcorn anyways. You won’t even have to wait that long.” 

The lawn next to Perron Hall is already pretty packed by the time their group gets there, just as the sun is sinking into the horizon. The film school staff show a double feature every Friday night on the side of the building, and the gang try to go as often as they can. This week’s choice is  _ 10 Things I Hate About You  _ and _ You’ve Got Mail,  _ and Ryan is excited to forget about his own romcom tomfoolery and watch some other people experience it instead. 

They all unload their blankets and snacks towards the back of the lot, away from most of the other students, since they have a habit of bickering with each other throughout the entire movie and shockingly, no one else is really a fan. 

“Want to get some popcorn?” Shane asks, once their blanket is stretched out. “I know it’ll be B-rated, but it’s better than nothing.” 

Ryan sighs disappointedly. “Yeah, let’s go.” 

They troop over to the popcorn table with Jen, Sara, and Steven to collect enough for everyone to share. Ryan and Shane start up the explanation about why Ryan’s popcorn maker is basically dipped in gold, and the other three heckle them, and it’s just a great time all around. Ryan’s spirits could not be higher, with nothing but an evening filled with his friends and Shane and eating popcorn and 90s romcoms and— 

When they make their way back to the group, Ryan sees that Tyler has set up camp on the other side of Shane’s blanket. His stomach turns over and he almost drops his food onto the ground, completely caught off guard by seeing this unwanted addition to the crew. Ryan has been around Tyler a few times since their less-than-stellar conversation outside of Shane’s creative writing class, but have not even looked at each other, let alone spoken to each other. He’d been able to adequately deal with it those other times because it was in public spaces that he has no real attachment to. But Friday Movie Nights are special, and Ryan gets to basically have Shane all to himself for a few hours while they bitch about their popcorn and talk about the movies they’re watching. This is Ryan’s safe space and seeing Tyler in it, invading his one guaranteed area of peace, makes him almost feral with fury. 

He, of course, can show none of this; Ryan takes a deep, shuddering breath and locks his face up as well as he can. Steven notices and frowns, but they’re already to the others before he can voice his concerns, and Shane is already saying: 

“Oh—hi, Tyler.” 

The greeting is lackluster, something that Ryan picks up on even through the blood roaring in his ears, but Tyler seems oblivious. 

“Hey, Shane! I saw that you were sitting over here, so I thought I’d come join you! Are you excited for  _ You’ve Got Mail?”  _

“Actually, I prefer  _ 10 Things,  _ but to each their own.” 

Tyler says something else to this unenthusiastic reply, but Ryan shuts it all out, afraid that if he listens for another second that he’ll go off the rails. He’s half-tempted to crawl to the front of their cluster, where Daysha and Curly are sharing a blanket and a bag of pretzels, but doesn’t want to risk Shane figuring anything out. And if they didn’t sit next to each other during movie night, there would be a million and one red flags that would pop up, each worse than the last. So he sits where the fuck he always sits and tries to get sucked into  _ You’ve Got Mail  _ and pretends like he isn’t on the brink of a middle school meltdown. 

They’re about three-fourths of the way through the movie when Shane suddenly digs his hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out his phone. It’s lit up with a call from his mom, and Shane whispers: “Be right back,” to Ryan before standing and walking a good distance away from the movie. Ryan watches him go, and watches as he starts talking to Sherry, and then turns back to the movie, satisfied by the lack of alarm on Shane’s face. He accidentally catches Tyler’s eyes when he does, and jerks his head back to the movie, an angry burn settling low in his gut. Ryan considers it a Christmas fucking miracle that he doesn’t take this Shane-less opportunity to tell Tyler to crawl back to whatever demon hole he crawled out of. 

He gets sucked back into the movie since it’s nearing the confession part, and those are absolutely Ryan’s favorites, so he kind of forgets about Shane being on the phone. Not entirely, but enough that the thought is mostly a faint buzz at the back of his mind. He doesn’t notice when Tyler gets up from his blanket, as well, doesn’t notice that Tyler is missing, doesn’t notice that Tyler is finally out of his safety bubble until he hears Andrew hiss:  _ “Oh, what the fuck?” _ in a way that is definitely not referencing the movie. 

Ryan looks over and sees that Andrew is staring behind him, over Ryan’s shoulder, and that’s when he remembers that Shane is supposed to be on the phone, having a normal conversation with his mom. He turns, expecting Shane to be in goddamn tears or something, and finds something much, much worse than that. 

Tyler has his hands wrapped around Shane’s neck and is doing a combination of pulling Shane down and standing on his tiptoes to push their faces together. He’s kissing Shane like they’re in a 90s romcom, like the angels are singing in Heaven, like the world is burning all around them and they’ll only ever have this one moment together, so they have to make it count. Shane is staring at Tyler’s closed eyes, and it’s clear as fucking day, from his raised shoulders to his clenched fists to his furrowed brows, that he is not enjoying the kiss. 

Ryan gapes at them, utterly stunned by this bold display. Then Shane tries to push Tyler away from him and say something, but Tyler just forces himself onto Shane again, kisses him harder and pulls him closer, and Ryan is across the lot and to the pair before he realizes that he even stood up. 

One second he’s staring at the grotesque slide of their mouths, Tyler’s eager and Shane’s totally unresponsive, and the next he’s inserting himself in front of Shane and shoving Tyler away with an enraged hand to his chest. 

“What the fuck?” Tyler swears, eyes snapping open. “What the fuck, dude?” 

_ “What the fuck _ yourself, jackass,” Ryan replies, nearly at a yell. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Tyler scowls at Ryan, not attempting to hide it even though Shane can clearly see. “Me? You’re the one who just interrupted a private moment!” 

“A private moment! You were forcing yourself on him!” 

“I was kissing him,” Tyler says slowly, like Ryan’s an idiot. “I wasn’t forcing myself onto him at all. It was just a kiss.” 

“Yeah, well, apparently you never learned how to read the room or your partner’s body language because that was a one-sided kiss if I ever fucking saw one.” 

“How would you know? You weren’t involved in this situation whatsoever until  _ you _ forced  _ your _ way into it.” 

“He was pushing you off of him!” Ryan seethes. His hands are shaking so badly that he has to curl them into fists to stop it, but it just makes the rest of his body shake instead, until he’s practically trembling with rage. “Was that not a clear enough sign that he wanted you to stop? Are you that fucking caught up in your fantasy that you couldn’t recognize a very direct order to let go of him? Just had to keep going no matter what?” 

“Shane’s his own person,” Tyler says, throwing Ryan’s words from before back at him. “He can take care of himself.” 

Ryan takes a lurching step towards him, not able to think past the anger and the image of Shane being nonconsensually yanked into another kiss with this asshole. Shane stops him with a gentle but firm hand on his arm, and a quiet: “Ryan, stop. It’s fine, it’s done. Let’s just go sit down, okay?” 

But then Tyler zeroes in on Shane’s hand, and his face goes from annoyed to cruel in the blink of an eye. He fixes Ryan with a sneer, and tells Shane without looking at him: “The only reason Bergara’s so mad is because he’s fucking in love with you.” 

Shane’s hand tightens on Ryan’s arm in surprise, or in horror, and Ryan sees stars, feels his entire world shift and slip off its axis. The three of them look at each other for a very, very long moment, where no one moves and no one breathes, waiting for the hammer to be swung onto the still glass of this silence. Anguish comes rushing in first, the worst combination of fear and heartbreak that Ryan has ever felt in his entire life, and then the rage comes back, like black ice filling up every single splintered edge in his body. 

“If you think,” Ryan starts, voice deadly in its softness, “that the only reason I pushed you away from Shane is because I’m in love with him, then you are absolutely more fucking disgusting than I already thought. The fact that you have no problem with what you just did to him and believe the only reason why  _ I _ have a problem with it is because of my feelings for Shane —there are literally no words for how repulsive that is. You are genuinely fucked up.” 

“Yeah, I think you’re just mad because I had the balls to do it before you could. That’s what you get for waiting and not making a move when you had the chance.” 

Ryan snarls back, “Making a move is not the same as forcing someone into a fucking kiss when they don’t want it! What the fuck is not connecting for you?” 

“Well, it’s not like he wants you to kiss him either, so you can stop with the guarddog routine. We were having a perfectly civil conversation and kiss before you waltzed in like his knight in shining armor—”

“Tyler,” Shane cuts him off, and Ryan has never heard him use that tone of voice before, something cutting and cold and pissed all the way off. It makes him press back into Shane, chest to shoulders, so Ryan can feel the way his heart is racing. “That’s enough. I think you should go.” 

The sneer drops off of Tyler’s face, and a look of astonishment takes its place. “What?” 

Shane’s fingers flex on Ryan’s bicep. “You need to leave. This situation has gotten really out of hand and there’s no reason why we need to press the matter further. You should go.” 

Tyler opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. “B-but, we’re into each other, Shane—”

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression, but I do not have feelings for you. And especially not after listening to you speak to Ryan the way you did. I don’t need anyone in my life like that.” 

There’s another long pause, one that drags on forever while Tyler looks between Shane, Ryan, and Shane’s hand on Ryan’s arm. Ryan tenses for a blow, tenses and gets ready to keep himself between Shane and Tyler by whatever means necessary. But Tyler eventually releases a breath, and then gives them both a look of such viciousness that it almost makes Ryan take another step back into Shane.

“Fuck both of you, then. I don’t have to stand and listen to you talk down to me. I’m out of here.” 

As Tyler turns to stomp away, back up the sidewalk to the main part of campus, Ryan calls out one last: “Good fucking riddance.” 

Ryan watches Tyler leave, watches as he practically frogmarches himself back to his dorm or the quad or wherever the fuck he plans to go blow off some steam, and when he’s out of sight, he turns immediately to Shane. Shane is already looking down at him, face unreadable in the harsh light of  _ You’ve Got Mail,  _ and Ryan fights the urge to touch it and look for nonexistent marks. 

“Jesus,” he breathes, choosing to clutch Shane’s hand instead, the one on his arm. “Are you okay, big guy?” 

“I’m fine,” Shane says; his voice, soft in a way that is completely opposite from how pissed it was when speaking to Tyler, makes Ryan’s heart twinge. “I’m fine, I promise.” 

Ryan closes his eyes for a few beats, just to get a hold of himself. “He’s lucky I let him walk away. If you hadn’t held me back, I would have fucking punched him. What a piece of shit.” 

“I definitely wasn’t expecting it,” Shane agrees, and Ryan opens his eyes again, opens them to see an expression that is still indecipherable in this dim lighting. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.” 

“You don’t need to thank me. I meant it when I told him—”

He stops abruptly, recalling all of the things he and Tyler said to each other in the heat of that terrible, terrible moment. All of the accusations and disgusting nonchalance and Ryan’s greatest secret. Everything that Ryan has never wanted Shane to witness. It makes it hard for Ryan to look right at him, makes him feel like he might never be able to look at Shane again. 

“I meant all of it. But I especially meant that he’s disgusting and there’s something wrong with him. He should never have put his hands on you like he did and try to force you to kiss him. A-and—and I know what he said, about me being—I meant it when I said that that’s not why I got in between you, and I know it probably seems that way, but I would never just stand back and let someone force themselves onto you, or anyone else for that matter, but I'm still sorry if it makes you uncomfortable—” 

“You mean you’re…?” 

Shane trails off, and there’s an odd, choked quality to this voice that makes Ryan flinch, something he tries to hide as best as he can. He tightens his hold on Shane’s hand and makes himself admit it again, the one thing he promised he would never burden Shane with. 

“Yeah,” Ryan says hoarsely, “yeah, I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the eighth grade, probably. I know you don’t feel the same, and I get if you want me to fuck off for a while, but I—I wasn’t going to let him back you into a corner and touch you without your consent. I have no ulterior motives for pushing him off of you, I hope you know that—”

“Ryan,” Shane cuts him off again, and Ryan has never heard him use that tone of voice before, something reverent and awed and achingly sweet. “Ryan, Ryan—” 

He tilts his head back and looks at Shane, really looks at him, and finally sees the unreadable expression for what it is: tenderness, a tenderness so full of love and adoration that it must hurt for Shane to keep it all inside of him. 

“Ryan,” Shane says it again, like he can’t make himself stop, almost like he’s praying. “I’ve been in love with you for  _ years.”  _

“No fucking way,” Ryan blurts, because this truly and sincerely cannot be happening to him. “But you— _ Shane.” _

Shane’s hand, the one not being held, moves to gently cup Ryan’s jaw. His long, long fingers push into the back of Ryan’s hair and his thumb comes to rest just beneath Ryan’s eye. His touch is just as reverent and achingly sweet as his tone of voice, so sweet that Ryan feels unworthy of being on the other end of it. 

“So, so many years,” Shane swears, a goofy grin starting to spread across his face. “So many years that I couldn’t even count them if I tried. I’ve always felt like this.” 

For a minute, Ryan just gawks at him, unable to comprehend what the actual fuck is happening. It hits him in fragments, that Shane loves him, that all of this hiding and hoping and terror at him finding out about Ryan’s feelings have been in vain, have been for nothing because Shane has felt the same the entire time, that Shane would never choose Tyler because he’s already chosen Ryan, has been choosing Ryan since they were dorky, obnoxious tweens together. 

_ He’s in love with me,  _ Ryan thinks to himself, dazed, and then he feels the hot, itchy prickle of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. 

“Woah, hey,” Shane says, still so soft and sweet and Ryan’s dream come fucking true. “What’s wrong, little guy?”

Ryan takes a deep, shuddering breath and tries to hold the tears back as best as he can. “Nothing, nothing! I’m just overwhelmed, that’s all. You know how I get. I just…  _ God, _ you have no idea how many nights I’ve laid awake or tossed and turned and dreamed about you saying that to me. Jesus, Shane, I wrote about you in my fuckin’ middle school diary—and my high school one, too. And Tyler—” 

He stops abruptly, remembering that he never told Shane what they talked about outside of his class. Shane’s pious expression hardens at the mention of Tyler’s name, and Ryan feels like such an idiot for never seeing how little Shane really cared for that dude, too caught up in his own jealousy and self-pity. 

“Tyler what?” Shane asks, squeezing Ryan’s hand. 

“It was dumb,” Ryan insists, squeezing back. “That day when we went downtown, and you had to go talk to your professor for a second before we left, he tried to start an argument with me about… you.” 

Shane’s look tips from annoyed down into plain mad. “What about me?” 

Ryan purses his lips, not wanting to repeat the words out loud, never wanting to think about them again even though they’re all he’s been thinking about for weeks, but Shane’s careful prompting of: “Come on, tell me what happened,” cracks him open. 

“He wanted to argue with me about the goddamn  _ Hot Daga.  _ He said that I take you and your creativity for granted because I hate that thing and I remind you every time you bring it up. He didn’t know that you started writing it to antagonize me until I told him, but the damage was already done. It blew up into this giant argument where I basically told him that I didn’t have to explain myself or our relationship to him, and—” 

_ “And?” _ Shane asks, going from mad to  _ livid.  _

Ryan shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. “And he kept pushing. I told him that I wasn’t going to fight over you like a piece of meat because you’re your own fucking person and your worth is not based on whether or not you want to fuck me. And then he told me that you would never love me back, and I told him that you would never love him period because he’s a shitheap and you always figure out when someone’s a rotten egg pretty quickly on.” 

Shane’s face does a complicated series of twists and changes, each filled with repulsion and a fury that is not unlike what Ryan felt when he saw Tyler yank Shane back down to him. He settles on something that is both fond and pissed off, and tells Ryan, tone brooking no arguments: 

“I do not give a fuck about him in any way, shape, or form. He can fuck off forever, and I hope that he does or I’ll make sure he gets the message loud and clear in front of the entire student body. He can rot in Hell for what he said to you. Fuck that guy.” He makes sure that Ryan is paying attention when he continues, “And I’m definitely guilty of being an absolute dunce when it comes to expressing my feelings, but I hope you know that you are the most important person in my life, me being in love with you aside. I’m sorry if you ever doubted that for a second between me and fucking  _ Tyler.  _ But you are so, so, so important to me, Ry, and I need you to know that no one is ever going to mean more to me than you. No matter what. You are my stars and moon.” 

Ryan’s smile splits across his entire face, until his cheeks are aching and a few tears spill from his eyes.  _ “Shane.” _

“I mean it,” Shane swears, with that tone of such wonder and tenderness that it makes Ryan’s knees weak. He dries Ryan’s tears without missing a beat. “He’s nothing to me, Ryan. And you—I don’t have the words to express what  _ you _ mean to me. You’re the fucking light of my life, the air in my lungs, etcetera, etcetera. I am the moon to your Earth, and the Earth to your sun. I orbit you completely.” 

“You’re such an idiot,” Ryan gasps, laughing, and wipes more tears off of his face. “I love you so much, you absolute goon. Forever and always. Who says shit like that?” 

Shane, admittedly, looks very red around the collar and at the apples of his cheeks, but he doesn’t shy away from Ryan’s gaze. Just shrugs helplessly, like  _ What can you do?  _ “Me, apparently, once in a great while. I’m gonna go right back to calling you ‘Bergmeister’ and ‘dumbass’ to recharge and refuel, so don’t get your hopes up.” 

Ryan leans into him, sniffling and giggling and lightheaded with relief, with complete and utter joy. Shane cups his jaw again, and Ryan puts his other hand on Shane’s shoulder, fingers clenching into the familiar fabric of his jean jacket, maybe for stability or maybe just to pull him closer than he already is. 

“You’re my stars and moon, too,” Ryan whispers. “You’re everything to me. I don’t say it enough either, but I love you so much I can hardly fucking stand it sometimes, Shane. You drive me wild, and you keep me grounded when no one else can, and I can’t live without any of it. You’re my first and my only and my forever.” 

“You too,” Shane whispers back, “always, always, always. I love you with everything I’ve got.” 

Ryan pushes closer, as close as he can get without touching everywhere from their toes to their chests, and asks: “Can I kiss you now, or is that off the table for tonight?” 

“Of course. You don’t need to ask.” 

“Yeah, I do. I want to hear you say it. I want us to both be ready and willing participants in this since we weren’t just a few minutes ago. I don’t ever want to be like that guy.” 

“Never,” Shane promises, with conviction. And then: “I want you to kiss me more than I have ever wanted anything in my entire life, Ryan Bergara. So please, please, please fucking kiss me.” 

“Yeah, get down here, dude.” 

“Did you just call me ‘dude’ before a ki—” 

Ryan, now with Shane’s hearty consent, cuts him off with a kiss he’s been dreaming about for weeks and months and years and years and years. Shane makes a funny noise when Ryan presses their mouths together, eager but sweet, and then makes a helpless little groaning noise and tilts Ryan’s head up to deepen it, to get closer still. Behind them, Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks are meeting up in the park, and Meg Ryan is telling Tom Hanks:  _ “I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly.”  _ and Ryan feels like an idiot for having his first kiss with the love of his life during a 90s romcom, but also feels like there was no way that something this ridiculous and cheesy wouldn’t happen with them, that is was inevitable for them to get their shit together during a movie like  _ You’ve Got Mail.  _

Ryan pulls away to take a steadying breath, to just  _ look  _ at Shane, and then Shane kisses him again, and again, and again, all the way through the end of the movie and through the staff switching to  _ 10 Things I Hate About You.  _ He finally lets up when they’re both swaying into each other and breathing heavily, and takes his own look at Ryan, eyes a luminous, honeyed amber in the projector light. 

“You know,” Shane starts, and his smitten expression says it all, until he actually says, “our friends are never going to let us forget we made out during  _ You’ve Got Mail _ in front of Perron Hall.” 

Ryan rests his chin on Shane’s chest and laughs deliriously. “Funny, I was just thinking the same thing.” 

“Well, it’s not like our entire relationship isn’t founded on being embarrassing and weird as fuck at all times. We’ve got a reputation to maintain.” 

“You bet your ass we do.” Ryan meets his eyes again and grins, unable to quell the giddiness their kissing left him with. “We in this for the long run?” 

“Until the end,” Shane agrees, and holds his pinkie out towards Ryan. Ryan links it with his own, and they seal their pinkie promise by kissing the sides of their fists. “Now that that’s settled, and we’re free of He Who Shall Not Be Named, want to go finish the double feature?” 

“Absolutely. I need to see baby Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Heath Ledger interact. They were the catalyst to me needing to openly profess my queerness for all corners of the world to hear.” 

“I know, I was there for it, buddy. And I feel like I should make a comment about men already coming between us, but I think it’s too early for that. And I also agree with you, so.” 

“You’re the only one for me, I promise,” Ryan tells him, just as they make it back to their blankets. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, big guy.” 

“I know.” Shane says, and visibly preens, sends Ryan an expression of such pure, forthright adoration that Ryan nearly pulls him into another deep kiss. “But Joseph Gordon-Levitt is very hot. I would understand if he ever asked for your hand in marriage and you said yes. I would even officiate the wedding with no charge and no hard feelings.” 

“Shh,” Ryan shushes him, trying not to laugh too loudly and failing miserably. He drops onto the blankets and helps Shane lower himself down, until they’re pressed from knee to shoulder. “We’re not gonna talk about that right now. I don’t want to hurt your feelings with my honest answer.” 

“He would learn French for you! I don’t know if I could do that, Ryan, but he certainly would—

Ryan fits his hand over Shane’s mouth, but they’re both seconds from falling apart, so the gesture is pretty pointless. He tries anyways, says, “Shut up, Shane,” and when Shane ducks down to kiss him again, he slides his fingers into his wild hair and holds on. 

They settle down after that, not wanting to miss a second of  _ 10 Things,  _ and Ryan knows that their friends are going to give them hell once it’s over, that they’re going to give them nearly a decade’s worth of hell and keep giving it until they die, probably. But all he needs to worry about right now is watching his favorite 90s romcom with his favorite person, and the rest can wait until later. He winds his arms around Shane’s shoulders and tucks his face into his neck, still unable to stop smiling. Shane winds his arms around Ryan’s waist and pulls him into his side, presses a kiss that is more his own dopey smile than actual kiss into the top of his head, and then croons into his ear: 

_ “I burn, I pine, I perish!” _

**Author's Note:**

> lmfaoooo that was Something, anywho i hope yall enjoyed and always feel free to come say hello in[my tumblr inbox](http://bodhirookes.tumblr.com/ask)!! i love to chat about shyan being fools!!! :-)


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